Chocolate Thunder
by jesrod82
Summary: What do you get when you mix a late night thunderstorm and a cup of hot chocolate?


I had written this one-shot a long time ago for my Tumblr blog, **RomioneSmut**, and just now realized I never posted here on FFnet! So while this may not be new to some, it may be to most. Enjoy!

**Chocolate Thunder**

Flat on her back, eyes shut tight, and not a breath of sleep in sight, she heard it: the first rain drop hitting the shutters outside of Ginny's window; the light tap of water falling from high above, making Hermione wonder and calculate with no real reason, the distance in which it had to fall.

A distant rumbling warned of an oncoming storm. Hermione guessed it would reach them sooner rather than later. She sighed and turned onto her side, facing into the room. She could just make out Ginny's silhouette, and the rise and fall of the younger girl's chest, deep in sleep. It made Hermione ridiculously jealous, that Ginny could sleep so soundly, through anything really, while she, Hermione, had been restless for at least an hour… for weeks, really.

She turned away from Ginny's soft snores to face the wall, huffing quietly and muttering to herself to stop thinking about everything and just go to sleep. But nothing worked. She sat up, kicking the tangled covers off of her legs, and stood with her bare feet on the cool, unpolished wooden floors.

Hermione grabbed her wand and padded across the room, then slipped out into the hallway. She closed the door quietly before tip toeing down the slatted stairs. Some of them creaked, and she jumped once when thunder sounded closer than the one before. As she made her way across the living room, and into the kitchen, she cold hear the pitter-patter of raindrops increase in rhythm on the sides of the house and roof. She found the noise comforting as it filled in the silence between the house settling; And the sounds of war, screaming, and death, that have filled her ears each night.

Even after seven whole days of peace, she still had none.

And apparently neither did Ron, for he was sat at the table, his elbows propped atop the solid wooden tabletop, hands wrapped around a mug. He had on a holey blue t-shirt and boxer shorts, presumably foregoing pajamas, thinking he wouldn't come across anyone else downstairs, at this late hour.

"Would you like me to reheat that for you?" Hermione said softly, when he didn't look up at her when she entered.

But when she spoke he peered up at her through his long fringe, and smiled, and although she knew he meant to make it warm and welcoming, it wasn't; it was full of such sadness and grief that she stuttered in her breathing.

"Yeah, thanks," he said.

She performed a quick warming charm on his mug and the smell of sweet hot cocoa filled her nose, and she remembered she had given the Weasleys some as a gift last Christmas. It seemed so long ago now…

She sat in the chair next to him, sliding in closer until their shoulders touched. He sighed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly, and placed her hand on his forearm.

He gave a short laugh and shook his head before taking a sip of the hot cocoa.

"Talking is just about the last thing I wanna do, Hermione."

"Would you prefer to be alone?"

His head turned to her so suddenly she flinched. "No!… Sorry. I mean, please don't go."

She nodded, speechless under his intense gaze. A flash of lighting lit up the kitchen, followed by a clap of thunder. Hermione jumped in her seat and her hand tightened on Ron's arm.

"Bloody storm," she said under her breath, and heard Ron chuckle next to her. The sound was so foreign in that house, over the past week, that it startled her, and made her smile to see him grinning at her. "What is so funny?"

"Just… you. I dunno, hearing you swear."

"I've sworn before," Hermione said primly.

He chuckled again. "Yeah, I suppose you have."

They sat in silence as his hand covered hers still on his arm, and stroked his thumb over her knuckles. The storm was over them, pounding rain, and the wind was pushing on the already slightly swaying house.

"What are you doing up?" Ron asked.

"I haven't slept properly for days," she said, then rolled her eyes. "For months really."

"Yeah. Same here," Ron sighed again and drank another sip of cocoa, then set it down gently, his fingers tapping against the chipped ceramic. "Nothing will ever go back to how it was, will it?"

Hermione paused, and watched as he bit the corner of his bottom lip and his eyes found hers, and it was like he was asking a different question entirely.

"Do you," Hermione started and took a deeper breath, trying again, "Do you want things to go back? How they used to be?"

She mentally slapped herself because of course he would want to go back to before he lost a brother; to before his family was ripped to shreds, George especially, who has since refused to leave his bedroom. Of course he'd want to go back to when everyone they lot were still whole and intact. They all wanted that. How could she be so… insensitive?

But that wasn't what she had meant; the real question she was wanting to ask, but never felt it was an appropriate time between funerals, and crying, and angry outbursts, was just beneath the surface.

"In some ways, yeah," he said with difficulty, nodding, as he continued to hold her stare. "But then, in other ways… no, not really."

"In what other ways?" Hermione asked quickly, not wanting the moment to pass- this connection they were sharing, she was hoping he felt it, too, and that they were on the same level, finally.

**_to be continued… _**

"In any way that meant you still kissed me," he said, looking steadily into her eyes. "And that this," he brought her hand to his lips and pressed them to her knuckles. She smiled, relaxing her shoulders as he looked back up at her. "This, you and me, together, I'd never want to change that for anything."

"Neither would I," she said, her voice a whisper, her throat dry from holding her breath. "Can I have a sip?"

He blinked, and smiled, then nodded, pushing his mug of hot chocolate towards her. With her eyes still on his Hermione brought the mug to her lips and took a tentative sip, careful in case the chocolate was still too hot to swallow in one gulp. But then she closed her eyes as the sweet deep taste of chocolate and milk, and something else she couldn't quite place - cinnamon maybe? - rolled down her throat, the perfect temperature in which to taste every drop without scalding her tastebuds.

"Good, yeah?" Ron said, his voice hoarse. And when Hermione opened her eyes, and lowered the mug onto the table, she licked her lips and heard Ron make a low, growling, throat-clearing sound.

"It's brilliant," she said, holding his gaze. "Cinnamon?"

"And cream," he said, sliding to the edge of his seat, closer to her so that their knees knocked together. He placed one hand on her leg, and she turned, moving that much closer so that their legs were now stacked between the other's.

The silence between them, what used to be awkward and full of unresolved tension, was now expected, comfortable, and necessary as they stared at one another, communicating what they wanted without speaking.

And without another word their hands reached out simultaneously, reaching behind necks and pulling the other to meet in the middle. Their lips crashed, and teeth clanged and slid until their tongues touched, and they moaned; Ron's a low grunt and Hermione's more of a whimper.

Ron dragged his long nose across hers as he tilted his head to the other side, deepening the kiss. She grabbed at his neck, pulling and still tasting the chocolate they both shared.

A roll of thunder rumbled throughout the kitchen, making Hermione stiffen, but Ron, not letting go of their kiss, moved his hands down to her waist and quickly pulled her into his body, holding her close, and making her feel safe.

Teetering on the edge of her seat, and her mind, she climbed onto his legs, straddling him. He ran his tongue up the side of her neck, and she pressed her chest into his while pushing down on his lap.

"Fuck, Hermione," he said as his hands were now on her bare shoulder blades, noticing she wasn't wearing a bra. He kissed along her jaw as his hands worked their way over to her breasts, cupping them, and flicking his thumb over her hardened nipples. "Do you?"

She nodded, lowering her face into his neck and kissing there lightly, then again with more pressure as she pressed even closer to him, wanting to feel every muscle and bone against hers.

"Please," she said, hearing the pleading tone in her moan and not caring, and took his earlobe into her mouth, sucking hard and then letting go. "I want to make you feel better… I want to feel better. I need this. We need this."

"I love you, Hermione."

"I know."

With that she found herself sat on the tabletop, her legs spread open and Ron between them, standing with his back stretched into an impossible arc as he nipped at her lips with his teeth, sucking on her bottom, and running his tongue across her teeth.

She had no other thoughts except Ron, and she already could tell he had none, but for her. Nothing else mattered to them but the ache to forget, and to heal, and to show each other once more what they had fought so hard for; that the sacrifices that were made were not all for nothing. Everything that had happened had to be for a reason. And in that moment she chose to believe that it was for this; for her and Ron to be together. It had to be this way. She was hit with the realization that otherwise, she might not be able to live with any other option but this, right here, with Ron.

It wasn't sweet or slow- that had been saved for their first time, when they were uncertain and inexperienced, and still quite fragile right after the war. Since then they grew to learn what the other wanted and found that no matter how many times they came together it only became better, more passionate, and it seemed they could never get enough.

But tonight, it was different. She wasn't sure if it was the added guest of the rain and thunder, the lightning flashing across the room at random intervals, casting them into a still-life of love and ecstasy, but there was an added… something that made them both unable to care that they were about to shag atop the Burrow's dining table, in the middle of the kitchen.

She heard a thud and then a crash, and knew they had somehow knocked over the mug of hot chocolate with cream and cinnamon, and for a moment she was sad that it was wasted. But then Ron was tugging on her pajama bottoms and knickers, and she lifted her bum, feeling the warm wood under her skin when she sat back down.

And then Ron was on her again, having pushed his own bottoms down to the floor, and he gently pushed her until she was laying on the table. And Ron, with his elongated torso, hovered over her easily, kissing down from her lips, her neck, bunching her shirt up to her armpits, revealing her chest and running his tongue over her breasts.

"Hurry," she cried out as a new clash of thunder boomed, covering her loud moans as Ron licked down her body and his tongue met her most sensitive folds.

She bit her lip and ran her fingers through his hair, and panted. Her legs were shaking, and he pushed them up from behind her knees, steadying her as he lapped her up, and sucked her, and rolled his tongue, just the way she liked. And when she felt she was close, she knew he could tell, he pulled away, and suddenly he was kissing her heavy breathing into his mouth. She could taste herself in him, and she kissed back fervently, her hands sliding down to his shoulders then to his back under his t-shirt.

His kiss was intentional as he slid inside of her, swallowing both of their loud groans and gasps. Thank goodness for the storm.

With practiced pace Ron bucked his hips into hers, not wasting time to help her finish her orgasm. She fell apart underneath him on top of that table where, in a few hours, they would be sitting with others enjoying a hearty breakfast.

The wood was hard, warm, and a bit rough on her back, but she didn't care as Ron went faster, and harder. He knew she liked it hard, especially now when they both needed the release so desperately. She wanted him to come undone like never before.

And then he did. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow, as he plunged in and out of her. She arched her back and tilted her head back, but kept her eyes on his, not wanting to look away.

He let go of her legs and instead hooked them over his shoulders and bent lower to press his chest into her, still pounding into her with his hips.

"Oh… god," Hermione panted, this new position making it feel as if he was deeper inside her than ever before. She reached down to his bum and grabbed, raking her nails across his skin, and pulling him in even closer, if that were possible.

"Fuck. I'm gonna cum…"

"I love you, Ron… so much. Let go," she breathed, still dizzy and on the lasting edge of her orgasm, and reaching another.

They came together with Ron's hips hitting her hard and fast, making the table skid across the hardwood floor, a thudding rhythmic sound along with definite scraping.

And when they finally stopped moving, with Ron bent over Hermione, only half crushing her since he was spent of most of his energy, she said through gulps of air, "I think… we made some… noise."

"S'alright," Ron said, looking at her with a lopsided grin. "I used your wand to charm the room… and myself."

"When?"

"While you were drinking. You drank damn near half of it."

"Sorry," she said with a sigh and a giggle, and then pushed gently at his shoulders so they could sit up and clean themselves with her wand.

"Don't be. Watching you enjoy something that I love is a fucking turn on."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled her bottoms back on over her knickers. "Well, who doesn't love chocolate?"

"I dunno," he said with a shrug and then grinned again. "It was just how you did it. I reckon you could wipe your arse and I'd find it sexy as hell."

"Rude," she replied, blushing, and stuck her tongue out at him. He gathered her swiftly in his arms and kissed her, sucking on her tongue and smiling against her lips.

End.


End file.
